


Brotherless

by MixedKit10



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad times are ahead, Brotherless!AU, Poor Papyrus, This fic is really sad trust me, Undertale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixedKit10/pseuds/MixedKit10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papyrus has always been alone, ever since he was a child. The pain of being by himself is more numb than it is hurtful, but the scars are permanent. </p><p>He hates what he's become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherless

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on an AU I made. It's exactly what it says it is. Papyrus is brotherless.
> 
> This is my first fanfic in a long time, sorry if it seems like quite the mess.

He blinked, and slowly sat up, groaning as the beginnings of light began to filter into his room. 6 am, time to wake up. Luckily for him, he wasn’t able to fall asleep in the first place. Hasn’t been able to for….how long? Almost 4 years. Brushing off the exhaustion and emptiness he was feeling, Papyrus got out of bed, and slowly padded out of his room and into the living room. It’s a good thing he lived in a one level house, walking down stairs would be hazardous. And given his…condition…that would suck. Like, a lot. The rather tall skeleton grunted as he flicked the kitchen light on, a heavy sigh leaving him as he walked over to the counter, scratching at the deep cracks in his collarbone thoughtlessly. Time to start his usual routine. Pap made coffee, deciding to go change into his armor while waiting for the pot to brew. He remembers how hard he worked to become a Royal Guard. He trained and honed his magic day after day from the moment he turned 12. He passed the test with flying colors, and is now basically Captain Undyne’s right hand man. The people of the underground know practically nothing about him, nor will he let them. Its better he keeps the others away from him. “The Great Papyrus,” they call him. It sickens him every time he’s addressed in such a way. He hates it. In no way was he great. 

Once donned in his armor, he clanks with heavy footsteps back to the kitchen to make his beverage. The coffee helps wake him up. Getting only 30 minutes of sleep every night isn’t healthy, nor is the severe nightmares he’s been experiencing since his first successful task. But that can’t be helped, every action has a consequence, his are just more severe. He’ll wander over to the living room to turn on the TV, stare with no interest at the stupid tin-can’s show reruns that has taken over television. Pap couldn’t give any shits about Mettaton- there’s nothing dazzling or brilliant or fabulous about him. He’s just really annoying. Sipping up his coffee, he’ll leave the cup in the sink to wash when he gets home. And then he’ll grab his helmet. Today, however, felt different. Like something new was going to happen. And it scared him greatly, memories flooding to the front of his skull, making Papyrus coil back like they physically harmed him. It’s been so long since something new has happened. The last time was when they…and he had to, he had to fight. He had to use his bone attacks, raising them, up, up, then down-

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the visions as he breathed heavily. His helmet had already fallen to the floor, hands shaking and held out uselessly in front of him. Stumbling back, he grabbed a corner of the wall to steady himself, leaning over as he fought to calm himself down. Pap couldn’t do this, not now, he had work to do.

Taking a few moments more to calm down further, Papyrus allowed his usual stone cold facade to take over, his face expressionless as he picked up his helmet and finally put it on. Push down all the pain, fear, and other disgusting emotions now useless and unnecessary to him. Standing up right, he squared his shoulders, and braced himself to handle another day of this pathetic existence he called his “life.” Walking over to the front door, he looked over at his home, practically dead silent except for the soft droning of his television. The lonely pang he feels every time he does this, upon remembering he’s all alone, the Royal Guard only turns his head, and exits his home out into cold, white town of Snowdin. Ah, Snowdin. So bright and cheery and happy. Everyone knows him, and only a few know what happened in his past. It’s a shame he couldn’t open himself up to those few, but now it’s too late for that. He’s an adult, and all hope he had that he might come back home was gone. The memory of being 6, watching the tall figure dressed in white and black leave for the last time. And never come back. This must be why he has 0.5 HP, yeah? Haha, so fragile and weak, pretending to be strong. But he must, for the people of Snowdin, of the underground. Along with the Captain, he’ll help King Asgore reach his goal. And then they’ll finally be free.

One more. Just one more soul.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Papyrus turned to begin his patrol of the forest. That uncomfortable feeling that something different is occurring won’t leave him, and if he weren’t practically an expert at masking and hiding his feelings- he’s certain his bones would be rattling in nervous paranoia. Cape billowing behind him, the tall skeleton didn’t so much as look at the furry residents greeting him as he walked past. Let’s hurry up and get this over with. He stops briefly to check on a few traps, some of them being cages that must be activated, one or two being what the humans called “bear traps,” to immobilize any…intruders. Papyrus made sure to thoroughly explain to Snowdin’s residents that they should refrain from entering this part of the forest. It made him a bit nervous, as he never does well in social predicaments. He gets compared to Dr. Alphys a lot because of that. He absolutely hates her, and would rather not hear her name ever again. She took his place, and if he returned- he’d be without a job. Guess King Asgore decided to move on as well. Good. 

Papyrus frowned, putting the trap down as he thought back on his poor excuse of a father. Raising a child by himself while juggling being a royal scientist must have been too much on his plate. But still, leaving a 6 year old by himself, having to grow up by himself, knowing he was abandoned and left to die is cowardly and unforgivable. Before, he used to hope his father would come home. Now he swears to strike him down if he so much as steps foot in this town. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head to rid the memories once more, the tall skeleton walked down towards the ruins. The feeling grew stronger and stronger. Sweat began to bead down his skull, hidden by his helmet. Heading up to the gate he asked to have installed, Pap entered the necessary code before walking through. 

He then paused. Choking on his breath, he fearfully looked ahead. A human child, the first one in 4 years, had just exited the ruins, and was stumbling their way through the snow and towards him.

Papyrus could feel his sins crawl down his back.

Visions of the past returned to his skull. When he joined the Royal Guard, he knew there were actions he had to commit. Being the one who killed the last two humans that fell down where the actions he made. Orange and yellow were the colors of their souls. Their screams and fearful expressions as he jabbed bone after bone into their bloody dying body repeated non-stop in his head. Regret and guilt, strong enough to make him nearly topple over with nausea fills his chest and makes his hands tremble. He killed two innocent children. But what for? For freedom, for hope and the future. The child in the striped sweater, bumbling about, was the 7th soul needed to exit the underground. He’ll take their life, along with their soul, and quickly return to the king. Papyrus’s left eye began to glow orange, his magic summoning the needed container to contain a human soul. Slowly, he begins to approach the child, thankful his expression was hidden by his helmet, knowing his façade has crumbled greatly.  
Knowing the child has left the ruins means they must have come into contact with Queen Toriel. He once managed to speak to her, admitting that he hated being alone, having grown up alone, with no friends, no family. How he has practically no hope, how he wished to understand why he still exists, and for what purpose. He even admitted that once in a while…he’d have dreams a little skeleton in a blue coat. He’d always smile, and it was always to him. Whenever Papyrus woke up from those dreams, the empty feeling in his soul would intensify, reminding him that this other being does not exist. He is by himself, and no imaginary friend will change that. After he killed the child with the orange soul, she ceased talking to him. He doesn’t blame Toriel, as he’d do the same.

Papyrus stopped in front of the child, who looked up at him with a craning neck. Their eyes were squinted, yet he could see the curiosity and wonder in their expression. That empty feeling returned as they smiled at him. They smiled at him, someone who doesn’t deserve any kindness, and someone who is a murderer. Their smile disappeared quickly as their soul appeared in front of them as the guard called forth a battle. Red, their soul was red. 

It was the most beautiful shade of red Papyrus has ever seen. 

Summoning about fifteen bone attacks, he turned his head to the side as he raised his hand.

“FORGIVE ME, HUMAN….”

They didn’t fight back. Their scream was cut off short. The red that left their now mangled body stained the snow, was no match for the glow of the soul that trembled in front of him, without a body, a human, to belong to. Papyrus trembled too, grabbing the container as the soul was absorbed into it. He didn’t bother to touch the body, turning around slowly to walk back to the gate, the container held tightly in his hands. He thought briefly about his father, if he was at all proud of him, where ever he was. That was all he ever wanted as a child, to make his father proud. 

And then Papyrus thought about that skeleton seen in his dreams. Would he still smile at him, if he knew what horrible things he’s done? Would he still greet him and treat him kindly if he walked up and saw him now, armor stained with blood, the soul container in his hands? Hopefully not. He doesn’t deserve kindness, and he doesn’t deserve any sort of love from anyone. But he most definitely deserves this loneliness that continues to eat at him and his pathetic life. Papyrus put the pin into the system, and walked through the gates, feet crunching and leaving bright red footprints in the snow.

Maybe when he gets to the surface, the dreams about the little skeleton will finally stop.


End file.
